


lost it to trying

by bwyn



Series: space aces [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9202943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwyn/pseuds/bwyn
Summary: When he gets home, he doesn’t cry, he doesn’t break down, but he doesn’t do much else either. Shiro doesn’t ask him about it – his lack of expression tells all – and he leaves Keith to his silence.----Keith's POV during "so how do we win?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> "bwyn no"  
> BWYN YES

“You like him this much?”

 

Keith groans and rolls over so his face is lost to the cushions of the couch.

 

“I never thought I’d see the day,” sniffs Shiro, exaggerated pride colouring his voice, “My dear, emotionally stunted Keith is _in love_.”

 

Keith shoves himself up on his hands to shoot Shiro a righteous glare. “I’m not _emotionally stunted._ ”

 

“Right, sorry,” says Shiro, and he does look apologetic – until the smile makes its appearance, “I meant constipated.”

 

“ _Ugh_.” Keith slams his face back down. He regrets it when his nose takes most of the force, but he isn’t about to show his face again. Then he remembers the rest of what Shiro said and practically yells into the cushion, “And I’m _not in love!_ ”

 

There’s no response for a long moment, egging Keith into turning his head so he can peek out with one eye. Sure enough, Shiro is still there, just looking at him. Keith’s never been the best at reading expressions, but when it comes to a select few, he feels like half the time spoken words aren’t necessary. Shiro is one of those people – and Lance, sometimes. Although his coworker still manages to be a relentless, smooth-talking, frustrating enigma half the time.

 

But right now, Shiro is looking at Keith with patient sympathy in the softness of his eyes, and impatient incredulity in the hardness of his mouth. Keith starts to slide back into hiding. Shiro sighs.

 

“Keith.”

 

He freezes. “…What?”

 

“People tend to put a lot of weight behind the words _in love_ , but sometimes it’s really straightforward. Like, love, in love – it’s not like they have to be these big milestones. You just… have to acknowledge it, and move on.”

 

Keith knows this conversation isn’t going to be an easy one to sweep under the rug. So, slowly, he shifts around until he’s laying his head against the armrest, facing Shiro so he can unleash the full brunt of his Skeptical Keith expression.

 

“I’m not in love with him,” says Keith, trying to muster as much finality to it as he can. It still sounds weak, though. “I like him, sure. He’s a coworker and a friend, we have fun, I like spending time with him, maybe sometimes I want to… to hold his hand, but I’m not _in love_. We haven’t even been talking for a full month.”

 

He’s gone pink, he can tell. Thankfully, Shiro doesn’t tease him for it. On the contrary, he looks kind of sad. Or maybe disappointed.

 

“Time doesn’t really have much to do with it,” says Shiro, bracing his elbows on his knees, “You can know someone for a year and have nothing beyond platonic feelings for them before it just hits you. You can fall in love within a day given the right circumstances.” Keith opens his mouth to object, but Shiro raises his eyebrows and the words go unsaid. “Being in love doesn’t have to be strictly romantic either. You can be in love with your friends; it doesn’t mean you want to date them. And you know love doesn’t have to be this all-consuming thing. It just means you care for another person’s wellbeing, you want good things to happen to them, you want to be around them and they make you feel good. Being in love is more… acknowledging those feelings and the bonds that connect you. I guess it’s like the difference between loving a friend and being in love with a best friend.”

 

Shiro’s smiling at Keith now, and it has a kind of teasing edge to it as he adds, “By the way, I’m in friendship love with you.”

 

Keith shoves his face against the armrest. Shiro laughs and continues, “I’m romantically in love with Allura, and I’m pretty sure she’s platonically in love with her roommate, although I wouldn’t dare try and get her to admit it. So what about you and this guy?”

 

“Um,” is all Keith can muster against the fabric pressing into his face. He knows he likes Lance. He knows by the things he wants, but can never do, like threading their fingers together, or leaning his head on his shoulder, or running his fingers through his hair. Keith knows he wants to take Lance out on a date; something casual, like coffee or a stroll through the park. He knows he wants Lance to look at him like he’s something special, and he wants to tell Lance how amazing he is on the days he looks sad and tired, without worrying that he’s stepping over some invisible line.

 

And Keith knows that when he thinks too much about these things, or lets his gaze linger too long when Lance smiles, there’s a fist gripping his heart and squeezing until his entire chest aches. There’s an uncomfortable warmth behind his eyes.

 

Yeah, Keith decides, he’s probably in love with Lance.

 

But there’s always that shadow at the edges of his thoughts; the one where Lance likes him too, but his desire includes one of skin against skin and an intimacy that Keith can’t imagine reciprocating. It makes him physically nauseous then, and Keith thinks that no matter how fond he is of Lance, there’s a barrier there that won’t let him by.

 

So it’s with a throbbing in his chest and a twist in his gut that Keith says, “I’m scared I can’t give him what he wants.”

 

And then he starts to cry.

 

Shiro knows better than to smother him, so he provides Keith with a glass of water and tissues to wipe his face, but he stays close.

 

“Keith,” says Shiro gently, “Keith, I can’t… I can’t imagine how frightening it is for you, but if–“

 

He breaks off with a huff. Keith knows it isn’t aimed at him, because through blurry eyes he can see Shiro frowning at the floor. Figuring out the right words, but having no experience to base it off of – yeah, that was hard, but Shiro always gave Keith good advice regardless.

 

“If you really love him this much,” begins Shiro, fingers threaded together, “You’ll only regret not trying. I think you should give it a shot. Both of you might have to sacrifice something for it, but it could be worth it, and you won’t know unless you talk to him.”

 

Keith rubs his eyes. He wants to argue, tell Shiro he has no idea what he’s talking about, to leave him to his misery – but Shiro wants him to be happy, and Keith knows that he can either be miserable about his unrequited feelings, or he could go out on a limb and flip a coin. Heads for losing a friend, tails for gaining something more.

 

And Keith finds himself nodding and saying, “Okay. I’ll… I’ll try.”

 

* * *

 

“I, uh… I–I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 

Heads it is.

 

Keith doesn’t remember ever being in as much visceral pain as when he heard those words leave Lance’s mouth. Keith is no stranger to physical pains – bruises, scrapes, even broken bones – but there’s no pain medication for this, no going to the doctor to fix it.

 

When he gets home, he doesn’t cry, he doesn’t break down, but he doesn’t do much else either. Shiro doesn’t ask him about it – his lack of expression tells all – and he leaves Keith to his silence.

 

The funny thing is, he didn’t even get to the part he was worried most about. The entire time, Keith was concerned Lance would want more than he could give, but in the end, he didn’t want anything. It’s laughable, but Keith doesn’t laugh, because the outcome is still the same.

 

And he spends the entire weekend moving from the couch to his bedroom, alternating between sleeping, eating when Shiro prompts him, and staring at the wall. Keith knows he should put more effort into self-care, but he doesn’t want to. He just wants to rot and forget. He wants to pretend Friday never happened, that he never mustered the courage to ask Lance out, that he didn’t finally show Lance that he–

 

Keith closes his eyes and tilts his face to the ceiling. The tears don’t come, but he’s fine with that.

 

“Keith,” says Shiro from the hallway, “I think you should come out with us.”

 

“I’m not going to third wheel,” sighs Keith. His voice is normal. Shiro was obviously put off by it at first, but they’ve lived together for years now, and Shiro knows it’s just one of the ways he functions – by not showing it.

 

“You won’t be a third wheel,” says Shiro, “It’s not a date or anything.”

 

“It doesn’t matter. If it’s a couple, it’s a date. If there’s a third person, they’re the third wheel.”

 

“Keith.”

 

The sound of his name is a lot sterner this time. Keith tries not to sigh too loudly as he opens his eyes and turns in his seat to meet Shiro’s gaze.

 

“Shiro.”

 

“Come out with us.” Shiro’s frowning now. He looks concerned. Damn it. “It’ll do you some good, okay?”

 

“Will it?” drawls Keith.

 

“ _Yes_. Go wash yourself up.”

 

So Keith drags himself into the bathroom to have the quickest shower he’s ever had in his life, and even dresses himself to look presentable (for Shiro’s benefit, really, he didn’t want to embarrass him in front of Allura). Shiro’s expression when Keith reappears, looking like a human being despite the haggard face, is as close to content as it can be when Shiro’s also worried, but it makes the whole ordeal kind of worth it in the end.

 

Shiro drives them to Allura’s apartment complex. He even lets Keith choose the radio station, although he probably regrets it when Keith blasts something to reflect the grunge in his soul. But Shiro is really pushing it when he insists Keith walks up to the apartment with him instead of just waiting in the car.

 

Keith does so, but only because Shiro might go Stern Father™ on him and that’s the last thing he wants right now. So he trudges a couple steps behind his roommate as they reach Allura’s apartment and Shiro knocks on the door.

 

“Hey,” says Allura with a soft smile when she opens the door. She leans around Shiro to look at Keith, aiming the full brunt of that smile on him.

 

Shiro greets her similarly, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek that tints it pink. Keith tries not to come across as a sulking teenager during the exchange.

 

“Is it just you in, or…?” asks Shiro in a hushed voice as they step inside the apartment.

 

She shakes her head and gestures loosely towards the living room, the couch half visible around the corner of the hall. “Sorry about him,” she says wryly, “I think he’s transitioning into a hot topic role model.”

 

“I know what you mean.” To Keith’s dismay, Shiro jerks his thumb back at him. “This one’s been moping all weekend.”

 

Keith scowls at him, but Shiro pretends not to feel his gaze piercing the back of his head.

 

Allura smiles ruefully. “We watched all the High School Musicals and he could still barely eat my spaghetti.”

 

“…What broke him?” asks Shiro, sounding equal parts amazed and concerned.

 

Then there’s a drawn out groan from the living room, obviously unimpressed by the conversation. The thing is, it’s a familiar sound, one that Keith has heard before, and takes him a moment to place. The scene that comes to mind is one of himself sitting in the break room, and Lance walking in with an empty mug and a work-frustrated groan preceding him–

 

Keith is closing the distance between the entryway and the couch, ignoring the way Allura’s tone hardens as she tells him to wait. He does it on impulse, he doesn’t think, because if he does, then he’ll have to remember and keep existing in this apartment in silence.

 

“Lance?”

 

The roll of blankets on the couch twitches. “What.” Then it surges upwards, corners flinging away from the body within and falling to the floor. “ _What_.”

 

And Keith is staring at Lance. The couch is between them, and Keith has to rest his hands on it to keep from taking a startled step back. Lance looks tired, but his eyes are wide now, and flicking around Keith’s face, no doubt taking in the traces of his weekend’s sulk-fest that couldn’t be erased by a splash of cold water. Keith isn’t sure what he should be saying now, and he tears his eyes from Lance’s searching gaze to see the state of his hair.

 

He can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him, unbidden. “That hair is something else. What the hell are you doing?”

 

_I–I don’t think that’s a good idea._

Keith can feel his expression spasm; can see Lance notice the change. So he fights every one of his muscles to school it back into something casual, something calm, something that doesn’t make it obvious that his chest feels like there is a chilly hole straight through the middle of it.

 

For a long moment, there is silence, until Keith hears Allura speak from the entryway.

 

“Oh, he’s been sulking because he rejected an offer to go out with his  _crush._ ”

 

Keith sees Lance shoot a panicked glare at Allura, but he’s unable to process much else. _Crush?_ Who? Lance has a–?

 

Oh. _Oh._

 

And instead of feeling relieved, or elated, or _something_ positive that Allura is referring to _him_ – no, instead Keith feels a crushing disappointment, like something icy is scooping even more from the hole in his chest.

 

Despite, apparently, Lance having some sort of feelings towards him, he still said no, still rejected him, still had him walk out first, alone. Crush or no, Lance didn’t want anything more than friendship.

 

Keith tried to accept that. He tried to force his body not to betray the pain in his chest.

 

“Shiro, honey, how about we step out first?”

 

“Great idea.”

 

The door clicks behind them, and there’s nothing – just Lance clutching his blankets and Keith with his gaze fixated over his shoulder.

 

“So,” starts Keith, attempting anything that could be considered a normal conversation between friends – or coworkers. Just coworkers. Just people that passed each other in the break room at work occasionally.  “Shiro’s girlfriend is your roommate, huh?”

 

Lance makes a weird sound somewhere between a rattling breath and a groan. It’s brief enough that Keith thinks he might’ve imagined it, so he doesn’t comment. He just waits for Lance to say something, anything, so he can take his lead and maybe… maybe they could still be friends?

 

He watches, gaze still trained on the television, as Lance turns his head to look at him, before it drops down. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

 

That’s not what Keith expects, nor wants, to hear.

 

Lance’s voice is uneven as he continues, “I just– I haven’t liked anyone in a really long time but– but when you asked me out I just– I hadn’t even thought about what I was willing to give, or do because I– I’m not–“

 

He huffs then. Keith can’t bear to look at him. He just wants to leave now, run away and call in sick tomorrow and maybe pick up a coffee maker for his own desk.

 

“I’m ace.”

 

Keith’s entire world stops.

 

He’s had tunnel vision before, during his first fistfight in middle school. It wasn’t scary in the moment, but afterwards, with his knuckles bloody and his lip twinging in pain every time he spoke, Keith reflected that it was actually pretty frightening.

 

This time, however, all his focus is on a static person, no fists flying, no raging adrenaline. Just Lance, face pale, eyes unblinking on a spot beneath where Keith grips the couch. He’s terrified, Keith realizes, and that ache in his chest is more than just crushing disappointment and self-loathing.

 

“I’m ace and I panicked and said no because that’s what I’ve always done but I–I’ve never liked someone as much as I like you–“

 

Keith feels the ache grow into a pulse.

 

“–and after the fact, I actually started to think about it, and what I’d be willing to give–“

 

His heart is racing, his fingers digging into the couch.

 

”–if just for the chance to– to spend time with you and even though, it still– the thought of, you know, the physical needs, it makes me cringe but–“

 

He needs to tell him.

 

“ – if–if it’s you– I think, I think I’d be okay at least  _trying_.”

 

Keith really is in love with this guy. Here he was, mortified at the thought of giving himself to Lance, when all along the same thing had been beating around in Lance’s head, too.

 

So Keith can’t help it when a laugh, breathless with disbelief, escapes him. He regrets it when Lance’s expression closes up, that fear being beaten back into submission, but still he can’t keep the smile from his face.

 

“I… shit.” Keith wants to laugh again. “I like you so damn much it _physically hurts_ sometimes.”

 

There’s a moment where Keith isn’t sure Lance heard him, but then the other man is lifting his head, lifting his gaze, looking at Keith. He looks baffled, frozen in place. Keith wants to tell him how much he likes that expression; how funny he thinks it is, how he feels victorious getting that look, how he wants to frame it between his hands and explain it away.

 

The explaining has to come first, and Keith hopes beyond hope that his words won’t crack under pressure.

 

“You know, Shiro gave me shit because… he said if I had it this bad for you, and I was just gonna let it go because I was scared you’d want sex all the time, the least I could do was give it a try.” Keith feels the words flow stronger as he speaks. Maybe it has something to do with every smooth transition of Lance’s expression; the slight smoothing of his brow, the softening of his mouth. “I thought about that a lot, and I decided that I had to see how far I was willing to go for you, because I couldn’t handle this stupid ache in my chest anymore looking at you. If it was you, I figured, why the fuck not? It’s now or never.”

 

Keith can’t stop the warmth growing behind his eyes. His relief, his joy, his love bubbles out as another laugh. Lance is giving him a look – so painfully _hopeful_ …

 

“I’m asexual, too,” says Keith, and watches Lance look at him like he’d just been given the greatest gift he could ever ask for.

 

Lance speaks, then, voice raw and threatening to crack with every word, “Just so you know, I’m going to start crying now.”

 

Keith rips his hands from the couch as Lance throws himself at him. Keith staggers back a step when Lance hits him, arms tightening around his neck and his face hidden against Keith’s collar. He starts sobbing almost instantly. Keith just grips him tightly, desperately, eyes on the far wall as if that will stop the tears from falling – it doesn’t. They’re both crying, Keith is laughing, and the heavy warmth in his arms is Lance, the pressure around his neck is Lance, the hot tears on his shoulder are Lance’s. So overcome by his emotions, Keith can’t stop his hand from trembling as he lifts it to brush his fingers through Lance’s hair. He just combs them through again and again.

 

Then he asks, “Can we go for that coffee, then?”

 

And Lance’s response causes another laugh to burst out of him, “Yes, _please_.”

 

But they don’t release each other for what could’ve been five minutes, or maybe twenty. It’s hard to tell, especially when Keith doesn’t want to let go anyway. But eventually Lance lifts his head, eyelashes clumped with tears, and just looks at where Keith’s face is barely an inch away. He’s got that awestruck look again, the one that Keith yearned for, and here it is. So Keith can’t help the beaming smile that splits his face.

 

“You know,” says Lance, his mouth widening into a mirror image of Keith’s smile, “I’m _so glad_ we don’t have to have that whole post-makeup make out session that other people do.”

 

“Hell, me too,” huffs Keith, “ _This_. This is perfect.”

 

“Yeah,” says Lance, pressing his smile into Keith’s shoulder again, “Yeah, it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> okay now I'm foreal done w this series  
> I've already got the first chapter of another AU to post tonight like what is wrong w me
> 
> [my tumblr](http://bitterbeetle.tumblr.com) if ur curious


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